Choking on Air
by Scoey
Summary: At the end of his 6th year, Harry has a fairly uneventful summer at the burrow with the Weasleys, when dark figures intrude the small house. While his friends escape, Harry knows he must stay and fight for the fall of Voldemort, but will he be victorious?
1. Eerie Shadows

A/N: I do not own Harry Potter or any of his storymates. (Is that even a word? O.o /shrug/) This story is rated T just for safety. It contains harsh violence and language, so don't walk up to me with your lawyer 5 years from now, claiming you read my story and became severaly traumatized, because, after all, I did warn you. Reviews are always appreciated after you finish. This is one of those make-it-up-as-you-go-along stories, so it should be fun! Thanks so much to all of your support. This story will be updated quite frequently now. Keep checking back for updates!

And here it is! Chapter 1: Eerie Shadows.

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"Just go, dear. _Please_," Molly Weasley whispered desperately to the raven-haired boy next to her. She was shaking uncontrollably as the two crouched under the small kitchen table. Their eyes darted all around them as the low ceiling above them fell down in pieces, threatening to bury them alive. A low rumble shook the small house, causing some dishes to fall and shatter. Even given the circumstances, the woman couldn't hold back a "Now, _really!_" as her favorite piece of china plummeted to the floor. Many of the shards flew at the two, cutting them.

Paying no attention to the minor cuts, the teenage boy squinted through the debris best he could to find a safe exit. He crawled a few inches out from under the table, but was quickly yanked back by the woman when a piece of plaster as big as him and twice as thick hit the spot on the floor where he would have been. Muttering his thanks, he continued to search for a safe passage. His infamous lightning bolt scar was pounding profusely. Trouble was just outside of the house, and he felt that he would meet it at any moment.

A second tremor quaked through the house, and a large crack made its way through the wooden floor, almost reaching the small table that the two were crouched under. The roar that the movement made set Mrs. Weasley off like an alarm, making her wail in fear for their lives.

'_At least she's not crying over her damn china anymore_,' Harry couldn't help but smirk.

Yet another quake coursed through the small burrow, followed by Mrs. Weasley's cries and a blinding red light that lit up the whole room. As if by instinct, Harry whipped out his wand from his back pocket, ready to curse any intruder into oblivion. His attention stuck to the font door. Charms and wards the only things now holding it up. The door was illuminated by the red light, growing brighter as moments passed. It looked to be under extreme heat pressure, as the door grew brighter shades of red, and started to whistle. Unable to take anymore pressure, the door exploded into thousands of splinters, adding to the collection of cuts the two already had.

All of a sudden, everything became still. The quaking ceased, and the last of the weak ceiling pieces fell to the floor, causing clouds of dust to puff up into the air. Coughing, Harry waved his hand to clear of the dust, blinking all he could out of his eyes.

Mrs. Weasley, beside him, started to shiver. He assumed it was from crying, but when he turned his head back towards the door, his thoughts were otherwise. The doorway was clear. Harry could see the starlit sky outside, and he, too, began shivering as the cool night air drifted in with an eerie chill.

Although the movements shaking the house had stopped, Harry could still feel them coursing through his bones. He began to feel lightheaded. Taking care not to make himself even more dizzy, Harry slowly craned his neck to his left and opened his eyes.

A cloaked head with a white mask covering its face was inches from Harry's nose. It smiled and said in a deep voice, "Hello, Harry."

Harry gasped and scrambled away from the figure, only to knock into a pair of legs behind him, also covered by a long black cloak.

Harry tripped on himself as he stood up. He jerked his head in all directions, only to find that his enemies surrounded him. Death Eaters.

He could feel his heart beating in his throat. He turned in circles, trying to get a glimpse of each one. There had to be at least twenty Death Eaters, all smiling and staring at him. That meant there were at least twenty black wands, pointed straight at his heart.

Harry spotted a mass of red hair behind the circle of smirking Death Eaters, and that alone made him act. Like a madman, he charged toward the red hair, attempting to break through anything in his path, but when he hit the chain of Voldemort's followers, he was pushed with great force back onto the ground in the middle of the ring. The back of his head rammed into the wooden floor, and lights burst into his eyes. Something heavy landed on his stomach, making him grunt; the breath got knocked out of him.

He opened his eyes in slits to find Molly Weasley sprawled on top of him, sobbing and spilling tears onto his shirt. The Death Eaters surrounding them laughed at the sight. This infuriated Harry, but he said nothing. Harry slowly sat up, taking care to help Mrs. Weasley sit up as well. The Death Eaters laughed even harder.

"Imbeciles," Harry muttered as he got to his feet, and lifted Mrs. Weasley onto hers, too. Making sure she had her ground, Harry straightened his posture best he could, as his knees could barely support his weight now. He stared at a clump of Death Eaters in concentration, scanning his mind for a spell that would knock them all out at once.

Suddenly Mrs. Weasley beside him collapsed to the floor and started crying again. "Look! The blood traitor can't even stand up!" one voice called from the crowd. This triggered another round of snickers from the Death Eaters. Harry, now completely vexed, kneeled on the floor next to the woman. He rubbed her back, trying his best to comfort her. He couldn't find any words to help her feel better, be he hadn't needed to, as she whispered as quiet as the night, "H-He said this would happen."

His attention was now totally drawn to the worn woman,. Harry breathed back curiously, "Who said this would happen?"

Mrs. Weasley shook her head frantically as if the question frightened her. She screwed her eyes shut and gulped, before replying, "He s-said that you would," then she paused. Her eyes grew wide, looking like they would pop out of her head. "Don't do it! Oh, Harry!"

She grabbed both of his forearms, squeezing them as hard as she could, as if her life depended on it. Harry winced at the sharp pain, and dreaded giving the reply he knew he had to give.

"M-Mrs. Weasley we-"

"P-please Harry, d-don't!" Mrs. Weasley choked out, digging her nails deep into his arms.

"Mrs. Weasley," Harry whispered, trying to control his shivering. "W-We knew this day had to come eventually- we've already discussed it. You know I love you like a mother, and your whole family as my own."

Tears started to cloud up his eyes, but he blinked them away impatiently. His voice started to break as he whispered in Molly's ear, "Please believe me when I say that if I had a choice, I would have never gone through with this. If I could, I would choose to be a normal carefree kid, and actually live a life, instead of the hell this scar has given me," Harry paused as if to think about what he had just said. He whispered so quietly he could barely hear himself, "That's what I dream of every day. To be a real kid. I would have my parents, S-Sirius, a younger brother or sister; and not have to dream about death, attacks, torture, murder, or The Great Tom Riddle every night."

Feeling anger color his face, Harry forced his temper down once again, and felt suddenly limited of time. He continued, slightly louder and less emotional, "Please get yourself out of here. Don't think I'm trying to be noble, just go. I'm going to hand myself over to these bastards, and they will take me to Voldemort. Mrs. Weasley, please!"

The woman leaped at him and embraced him in a tight hug; she squeezed him hard as if he would disappear into the air any second.

"P-Please, remember," Harry continued, choking on his own words, bringing his eyes slowly up to look at the Death Eaters, then back to the scar on his hand that read 'I will not tell lies', and rubbed it gently. "Re-Remember that I love you, and no matter what happens, even if the light dies out, there will always be hope. Keep fighting, even if there's no hope to fight for. That's how I made it this far."

He attempted a smirk, but when he turned his attention back to the woman next to him, he saw that her face was swollen with tears. Her eyes drifted to the floor and the light died out within them. Harry's smirk died away. He squeezed both of Mrs. Weasley's hands one last time, before shakily standing up and regaining his balance. As he lifted his head to face his enemies, a voice growled in his mind asking why the hell he hadn't escaped with Ron and Ginny.

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A/N: There you go! I realize that I wrote the first 3 chapters quite a bit back, but I'm currently going through each one and editing them, as my writing style has changed quite a bit since then. Reviews, comments, and constructive criticism are always welcome :D Thanks for reading! Keep checking back for more updates!

Always,  
Scoey


	2. Clouded Thoughts

Once again, I DO NOT own Harry Potter & co. so please, lawyers, leave me alone O.o /threatens with chicken tender/

A/N I WILL NOT UPDATE IF YOU DON'T REVIEW!

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Harry grasped his wand with trembling fingers and held it in front of him defensively. If he was going to be taken, he wouldn't go without a fight.

Every figure circling the middle-aged woman and Harry was completely motionless; their gazes fixed on Harry, as if waiting for him to act. Harry began to feel slightly dizzy. He felt like he was in a sea of darkness, choking on his own breath. His knees were threatening to give way, so he stared transfixed on a deatheater's mask, trying to think of a plan, anything, that would get Mrs. Weasley out of the tight situation.

His thoughts transformed as he continued to stare at the deatheater's white mask. Why had they chosen to be deatheaters, anyway? Harry bet fifty sickles that not five deatheaters in the room were even purebloods. And even if they were, why would they join Voldemort's ranks? They spent what was left of their so-called lives torturing and killing muggles and wizards alike, some of them probably their own family members, all for what? Torture? Surely they didn't get paid.

_Ah, that's right_, Harry mocked. _They kill for the honor of serving their almighty Dark Lord, and that's payment enough._

He inwardly rolled his eyes, but soon darker thoughts clouded his mind.

_Some did enjoy to torture, not just because they had to_.

An image of Malfoy Senior immediately popped into his mind, smiling over Harry's shrieking, twitching body.

Harry shook himself out of that terrible thought, and came up with another reason why anyone in his or her right mind would join Voldemort's army.

_Because they were forced to_.

Of course, that had to be why most witches and wizards joined. Either they were cursed with unforgivables such as the Imperius and Cruciatus, until they finally gave in to join, or…

…_it was tradition in the family to join_.

Harry's mind drifted to the time when he saw Malfoy crying in the girl's lavatory.

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'…_What will father say?' Malfoy gasped between sobs. 'Wait, don't answer that. I know what he'll do. He'll kill me! HE'LL FUCKING KILL ME!'_

_'There, there, Drakey. Just don't tell him. I did loads of stuff without telling my parents, and I was fine.'_

'_Oh, like that's really saying anything.. fucking ghost…'_

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Harry couldn't help but smirk at that last part, but another memory appeared before him.

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…_Malfoy stood, pointing his wand somewhat shakily at Albus Dumbledore. _

'_So, what's it like to know that your downfall will be to a Malfoy? Your own student even! Hah, losing your touch, old man?'_

'_You don't have to do this, Draco. If you're doing this for your family's safety, I assure you, they are well protected. Protected beyond the imagination. And you can be protected, too. You have a choice.'_

'_W-what? My family's safety? I am going to kill you for my Lord. How proud he'll be to have your head!'_

'_You are merely a follower doing Voldemort's bidding. He doesn't even care who you are. He will take all the credit for killing me, but those thoughts set aside; you have a choice. Remember this. You can make it all end right now. I can hide you and your family, you will never be found. You will always have that choice.'_

_Malfoy listened to Dumbledore, and Harry thought he saw his wand move slightly lower…'_

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_Everyone has a choice_. The words rang through Harry's head. Everyone had a choice.. including every deatheater.

Harry had also been given a choice. It was in his first year at Hogwarts, and Voldemort himself had told him to join his ranks or die. Harry had chosen death rather than to bow down to the scum of a dark lord, and for his payment, every year at Hogwarts had become a living hell for him, because of the ever-growing threat of Voldemort. Many people had died on his behalf, and now, Mrs. Weasley's life was now in danger.

Harry tried to imagine what life would've been like if he had agreed to join Voldemort. He saw himself setting the Granger's house on fire... he saw Voldemort torturing Fred and George Weasley in a cold dungeon, and he laughed along with the rest of the deatheaters… everyone feared to speak his name… his face had become the symbol of death…Voldemort said he was like a son to him…

Harry woke out of his daze from that last thought, and found he had been staring at the same deatheater's mask the whole time. Suddenly the deatheater's face turned into his own, staring coldly back at him, smirking. He shivered and forced himself to turn around, staring at a whole new patch of deatheaters.

One of them came forward and spoke.

"Very good, Potter," a voice Harry recognized immediately as Lucius Malfoy's spoke, the deep tone ringing through the silent night. "Embrace the fear."

"What the hell do you want, Malfoy?" Harry knew it was a stupid question, but he tried with every fiber of his being to not stutter.

"Oh, I think you know," the voice growled, and Harry could almost feel the trademark Malfoy smirk the man was probably making.

Harry stayed silent, and tightened his grip on his wand. He was just becoming aware of the cold sweat pouring down his face, and he wiped it away impatiently.

Harry desperately scanned his mind for a spell that could damage all of the deatheaters at once, but could only think of ones that could knock out a few. It would have to do.

Without taking a breath, he yelled, "Reducto!"

Where the spell should have collided with a group of deatheaters, a sort of invisible shield absorbed the beam of light. The spell disappeared into nothingness. Slightly started, Harry fired two more stunners, only to once again get absorbed by the unseen force.

The deatheaters watched Harry in amusement, laughing at his desperate attempts to penetrate the shield. After watching Harry fire a few more spells, Malfoy growled, "There is no hope for you, Potter. Hand yourself over willingly, and we may not hurt her."

Malfoy gestured towards the still-dazed Mrs. Weasley on the wooden kitchen floor. For a second, Harry thought he had a shot at rescuing the only person in the world he had ever considered a mother, but soon his senses caught up with him.

_Oh, like he'd just let his rival's wife go freely, so she could tell the Ministry all that had happened, and have three dozen aurors chase after them? He already almost killed Arther Weasley's daughter, why would it be different for his wife?_

As Harry realized this, he laughed as if the whole ordeal of deatheaters breaking into the Weasley's house was one big joke.

"Hah! What next? If I bake you all cookies, you'll just let me walk right out of here?"

Lucius Malfoy stayed silent for a few moments, then let out a small chuckle. "There will be no getting out of this, Potter." He chuckled again, but it was hinted with warning. "And I would watch what you say to your superiors."

It was Harry's turn to laugh.

"My _superiors_, now? Hah!" He tried to sound confident, but his every limb was shaking uncontrollably, and he hoped they wouldn't notice. "Y-You expect me to bow down to a bunch of oafs who waste their pathetic lives carrying out the orders of that halfblood, doing exactly what he-"

A red beam of light came out of nowhere and hit him square in the back. Suddenly his whole body felt afire. Each limb was being torn out by thick knives.. his skin was being ripped off in pieces and dragged along an endless sea of razors..

Harry's throat tore out a blood-curdling scream- his hands were pulling his hair in a desperate attempt to shop the excruciating pain. His screams continued in a long stream; he could distantly hear laughing as the deatheaters watched him convulse and twitch on the floor. Tears that he had held at bay now poured down his pale cheeks, and he could now feel blood spurting out of his mouth as his shrieking continued.

Yet the pain did not stop.

Harry began to choke on his own blood, but he refused to beg for mercy. He wouldn't die a coward.

He faintly heard a woman scream, and the pain abruptly stopped racking through his body. Harry stayed curled in a ball on the wooden floor, panting, twitching occasionally. He tried to open his sore eyes, but found that his muscles, even in his eyes, were too tired. Defeated, he let darkness cloud his mind, and passed out. He awoke hours later to a blinding red light.

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Yay, chapter 2! Hope you liked.. it's, like, 800 more words than I had intended it to be, but I hope it turned out all right anyway. Once again, I'm half looking for a beta, so if you're interested, email me! One more thing: You don't review, I don't update. Simple as that. Thanks for reading!

-Scoey-


	3. Bound by Memories

**I don't own Harry Potter & co. So don't bother me o.o**

**Thank you:**

**Persontootiredtologin**

**&**

**Kybo**

**For your coolio reviews:)**

**Here's Chapter 3.. enjoy!**

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"Master, he won't wake."

Another red beam of light lit up Harry's eyelids- this time he felt his body jerk as it connected with his chest.

"Stand aside.. fools.." A cold, high-pitched voice rang through Harry's ears. Harry's heart dropped down to the pit of his stomach. He could recognize that voice anywhere. It was the very voice that had haunted his thoughts, dreams, and nightmares for the past sixteen years of his life. It was the voice of evil.. of fear.. of Lord Voldemort.

"Ennervate!" The voice growled, and a red light, twice as bright as any other filled Harry's closed eyelids, and rammed into his chest. He was forced awake into consciousness. His eyelids flashed open, but his vision could only come slowly in little bits of pieces. The outline of three towering figures revealed before him, and as the sight became clearer, Harry swallowed a gasp when he recognized the figures as a smirking Lucius Malfoy and Snape, along with a taller cloaked figure between them. He tried to shut his eyes tight, but found that the spell keeping his eyes open was keeping him from doing so.

Two pale, bony hands slithered out of the middle figure's sleeves. They slowly made their way to the hood and gently, almost lovingly, pulled it down.

Harry couldn't restrain the gasp at the sight of Voldemort. He looked as pale and snakelike as ever- but one thing about him scared Harry the most- he was smiling.

"Con-Congratulations, master. You've finally done it. You've captured the Boy-Who-Lived." Harry glared at Malfoy as he spoke. '_Go to hell, you twisted sadistic bastard_,' Harry cursed at him in his thoughts, but Malfoy was looking at Voldemort and missed the message.

Voldemort slowly turned around to face his second-hand man. "Thank you for stating the obvious.. Lucius," he growled under his breath, as if it pained him to speak. But now his tone deepened in anger, and Harry saw his right hand tighten around a long, black wand.

"Did you doubt me? Did you think that the boy would prevail over my power? Perhaps Lord Voldemort is losing his touch?"

Malfoy's eyes lit up in fear. He unmistakably saw the wand, too. Malfoy's mouth stuttered and formed incomprehensible words before forcing out "No.. no! Master, you are mistaken! I would never-"

This only infuriated Voldemort more. "_Mistaken_, am I now, Lucius? Perhaps I was mistaken to let you join my ranks instead of killing you, like I could have done all those years ago. Would you like me to fix that _mistake _now, Lucius?"

Voldemort raised his wand, and Malfoy rose in the air, contorting into shapes that were not normal for a body to do. All the while he shrieked and let out cries of "Master, I'm sorry!" and "Master, please forgive me!" After a few seconds, Voldemort lowered his wand, and Malfoy slumped to the floor, sobbing.

"Get up, Lucius." Voldemort growled, looking disgusted at his deatheater on the floor, as if he were garbage. "Stand up!"

Malfoy slowly got to his knees and stumbled to his feet. His long blonde hair was tangled, and there was a trail of blood leaking from his mouth. A gloved hand made to wipe it away, but ended up smearing it across his chin.

"Go clean yourself up," Voldemort growled.

Lucius stood panting for a few moments more, darting his eyes between Voldemort and Harry. He made the best smirk he could through his pain, and whispered, "You better watch yourself, Potter. My Lord isn't known to be.. forgiving." And with that, he turned and disappeared into the darkness in the room. A few moments later, a large door could be heard being slammed shut, and the three figures were left alone in the menacing silence.

"Imbecile.." Voldemort murmured under his breath, and turned back to Harry.

"Ah, but of course we have a guest! Welcome, Harry, to our-"

The large door Malfoy had just gone out of was heard being wrenched open, and an unrecognizable voice called into the dark musty room. "Master?"

Voldemort remained turned towards Harry, his red glittering eyes staring ahead of him in complete annoyance.

"What is the reason for this no doubtfully idiotic intrusion, Dingley?" he snarled.

"Oh! W-well, you see.. it's a bit odd. Wormtail s-sort of, uh, set fire to one of the prisoners, and uh- perhaps you should come see. It's not a very nice sight. I told him not to, My Lord, but he didn't listen and look what-"

"Silence, fool," Voldemort growled, and his red eyes flashed. With a swish of a cloak, he stormed out of the room, and the sound of a large door could once again be heard being secured shut.

This was the only time Harry could really take in his surroundings. He could only see about 5 feet around where he was lying, and beyond that was a cold, thick darkness that he could almost feel the weight of as it pressed in on his vision. There was a musty smell of mold, stone, and water about in the air, and he had to control his breathing to keep from choking on it. Apparently he was in a dungeon of some sort.

Harry sighed and stopped looking around. He had to get out of here. Staying alive 16 years longer than Voldemort had intended would not get him off easily. His thoughts trailed to that fateful night in the graveyard..

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_"…Wormtail, you know I can't just forgive you. 13 years I stayed alone, barely alive. 13 years of waiting for my followers to come find me. 13 long, torturous, years of enduring pain. I want 13 years of payment before I forgive you, Wormtail…"_

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Harry was the one who got him in that position in the first place. He knew he would get tortured mercilessly- either to death or madness, whichever came first. Unless Voldemort decided to kill him first. Sadly, the latter choice sounded much more appealing.

He closed his eyes and groaned. "Merlin, the Order better come find me soon.."

"Don't count on that thought, Potter," a dark voice spat back.

Harry's eyes shot open. He forgot there was another person in the room.

"Snape.." Harry growled with complete hatred for the man. Standing before him was the murderer of Dumbledore. Dumbledore had always trusted him, looked after him even- but in his previous year at Hogwarts, Snape shot him with the Killing Curse, and escaped with Voldemort's other followers.

"Why, yes, Potter. I'm surprised you recognized me through that thick skull of yours."

Ignoring Severus Snape's insult, Harry snarled back, "You killed Dumbledore. You're nothing more than a traitor and a murderer."

"Anything to please My Lord," Snape growled back, a smirk spreading across his lips.

"Your Lord is nothing but scum! He has a bunch of apes run around, killing people, and do the work that he's too afraid to do himself!"

"I'd be careful what you say during your stay here, Potter. The walls have ears." Snape smirked again, and continued. "But I suppose I shouldn't blame you for wanting to speak. You probably don't have a chance to get a word in with that mudblood Granger gibbering all the time."

"You have no right to talk about Hermione like that," Harry gnarled. His temper was rising quickly, but he tried his hardest to not let Snape get to him.

"I don't? And I suppose you have every right to insult the greatest wizard of all time, who could just as easily kill you as you can blink? Not to mention how strong you think your parents were. Don't you realize that they were no match for My Lord- that he killed them both within an instant? Your father was never a match for my master. Your father was weak!"

This blew Harry's temper over the edge. "My dad.. WASN'T WEAK!"

Harry moved to strangle Snape, kick him, anything to hurt him in every possible way, but found, even through his struggles, that he couldn't move an inch. Cold, metal shackles held his wrists, ankles, and neck in place to whatever surface or table he was lying on. He still struggled against them, though. He needed to make Snape pay for what he said.

"GET THESE OFF OF ME! YOU COWARD!" Harry screamed like a madman at Snape, and jerked against his bonds, but to no avail.

Snape watched Harry, intrigued, and chuckled. "If there was actually a brain in that large head of yours," a door was heard being swung open, "you'd realize that those have been there this entire time."

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**..and there it is! I was going to make it longer, but I decided to bring the last part of the chapter into chapter 4, meaning that chapter 4 will be up quicker :) Please review, or there'll be no guarantees for a chapter 5 :) Take care!**

**-Scoey-**

**I also made some minor changes to the other 2 chapters to help it flow better, but they were so minor that you probably wouldn't even notice xP**


	4. This story will be continued as of 9 27!

**Once again, I don't own Harry Potter, so leave me be.**

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Harry gave one final jerk against his bonds, and slumped against the table, defeated.

Voldemort returned and made his way back to Harry. The room suddenly felt much colder, and Harry started to shiver. Whether it really was from being chilled or being scared, he didn't know, but whatever it was, he wasn't going to let it show.

Voldemort smirked as he stared into Harry's eyes, looking for any trace of fear within them. "Harry, Harry, Harry." He ran a hand through Harry's hair. Harry, not wanting to make the situation worse, said nothing. "How do we always get ourselves in these tight little situations?"

His smile broadened as he ran a pale finger down his cheek. Harry tried to flinch away, but Voldemort grasped his jaw and held his head in place. A sharp bony finger cut along his scar, opening it. Harry couldn't help but whimper as he felt his forehead being split apart. He squinted his eyes shut to try to block out the image of his parents' killer finally prevailing over him, but he was awoken out of his reverie when a different voice filled the small room.

"Aww.. is Ickle wee Potter scared?" Bellatrix Lestrange mocked in her baby voice.

Harry opened his eyes and found Sirius' killer's face inches from his own.

"Lestrange.. you whore.." he spat.

A black wand flashed out from nowhere, aimed between Harry's eyes. The wand was shaking angrily, but it eased down, and slid down Harry's nose, lips, down his clasped throat, and finally rested on his chest. Apparently Bellatrix wasn't pleased with Harry's last comment.

Angry black eyes stared at him through the hood of the cloak, along with clenched teeth, but her expression relaxed just as the wand had. She gazed into Harry's eyes as if looking for a lost artifact or an answer to a question she had been trying to solve throughout her whole life. She abruptly turned from Harry and collapsed to the ground, kissing Voldemort's robes.

"Please, master. May I please punish the foolish boy and make him pay for everything he did to you? To us?"

Voldemort said nothing. He stared at the deatheater kissing the hems of his robes for a few moments, then smiled.

"That can be seen to," he replied coldly, and Bellatrix squealed with glee.

Voldemort chuckled dangerously and added, "But first let's see where young Mr. Potter's breaking point is. We wouldn't want to bend him too far, now would we?"

He slowly turned to Harry again. His red eyes bore their ruby gaze into his emerald ones.

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**Wow, so it's been 2 years, everyone! 2 yeeears. I think I will continue this story :) (yaaaay ) Since my writing style has grown a little different over the years, I'm going to edit the past couple chapters a bit. I always adore your reviews, so please keep checking back for updates. I'm glad to be workin on this again ;D**

**,  
Scoey**


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